


Hawke's Broody

by Starla-Nell (Princess_Nell)



Series: Treats [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Boundaries, Dom!Hawke, M/M, No Smut, Relationship Negotiation, everybody fucks up in this fic, minor Hawke/Fenris/Anders, not the fun way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 04:21:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12740910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Nell/pseuds/Starla-Nell
Summary: Part of a series. Hawke hit a limit he didn’t know he had last time and freaked out a little before setting it aside. Now he deals with his brain. Then he talks with Fenris.





	1. The Brooding

**Author's Note:**

> Hawke’s brain-slip in the last work and this brood are products of my very reluctant belief that canon Hawke is not good for Fenris. ~~I ship Fenris and Isabela.~~ However, this triad keeps ambushing me with story and smut, so I keep nudging them towards the healthiest possible relationship. Sometimes they’re stubborn.
> 
> Special thanks to Rosehip and WhattheButlerSaw for betaing! Thanks for making me think things through when I want to leave it messy. (It's still messy, but I promise to clean it up later.)

Hawke kisses Anders and shuts the door to the passage to his clinic. Fenris took off for his mansion earlier, armed with a smirk and double his natural weight from his armor and Big Frickin Sword, or BFS according to Isabela.

Hawke wanders into the kitchen. Orana bustles after him, but he assures her he can get his own snack, so she leaves. He finds thin elven crackers, crispy but flavorless. Those and another peach, and he heads to his room to write his journal entries for the events of last night. Cleaning out the Bloodragers gang, not the sex.

But he’s thinking about the sex. More accurately, he’s hounded by the negotiation _before_ the sex. He was momentarily tempted to award the bet to Anders, considering the shit Fenris tried to pull. _No limits._ Where the fuck did that come from? Maybe… Fenris watched Anders submit quickly and easily to Hawke, remembered his own experiences with Danarius, and maybe it was too similar? Fenris never saw their patience and practice years ago. Maybe he thought Hawke wanted easy submission from Fenris, too, and Fenris thought he should push further?

Well, Hawke won’t let him. It’s not whether Fenris can handle submitting. Maybe it’s chump change to a magister, but the cost to _Hawke_ would be too high.

It bothers Hawke that he was tempted. Fenris was gorgeous and willing, and Hawke wanted to take whatever he desired from his body and believe Fenris wanted it because Hawke wanted it.

Hawke stares at the ink drying on his pen nub, unseeing.

No, that’s not the problem. Taking from Fenris is fine when he takes the time to be sure of Fenris’ boundaries and desire. Hawke bites his lip to stop balking and face his own thought: ‘taming his wild little wolf.’ _Fuck._ He tosses the pen into the ink well, disgusted with himself.

Fenris is one of the most sophisticated people Hawke calls a friend. His subtlety challenges Hawke to catch all the nuance. The Hawke coat of arms and a simple red band around his wrist were all it took to communicate the depth of his emotions, even when their relationship wasn’t physical. During that time, Fenris instructed Hawke on table manners for the Antivan diplomat’s banquet Hawke attended years ago. Hawke ate messy noodles and got no sauce stains on his noble costume thanks to Fenris’ patient drilling.

Fenris is refined, yet when Fenris said, ‘pleasing you makes it good for me,’ instead of treasuring his submission as a gift from an equal, a noble, Hawke contrasted it with Fenris when they met. Angry and free, six years ago Fenris tore through a dozen soldiers and crushed the heart of the last man to oppose him. He ripped through demon after demon in the mansion, shouting his rebellion, all to destroy Danarius, the magister who said he was _property_. Fenris claimed the name Danarius had given him, the ‘little wolf,’ to become something Danarius should have feared.

That creature, that _man_ , offered everything to Hawke last night. Everything Fenris had worked so hard for, he’d have given Hawke, just to please him. Why? Hawke was a better man? More worthy in Fenris’ eyes, more desirable, more powerful? A possessive _jolt_ shoots through Hawke because that’s what he wants it to be.

_Shit._

A title, an estate, contacts with everyone in power here, but Hawke is powerless when it counts. He lost his father, his homeland, his brother, his sister, and finally his mother. He can’t protect anyone in this city. He watches out for everyone, but if he glances away, whether from Keran, Ninette, or his own mother, this city ruins or takes their lives. If he were everything they said about the Champion, shouldn’t he keep everyone safe?

His father’s voice comes to him: “Nothing makes a _difference_.” His father was sitting on a boulder when he said it, holding twin sleeping toddlers in his arms, saying this to the sunrise. They hadn’t slept all night, running from templars.

“That’s not true,” Leandra said, hugging her eldest. “We’re alive. You’re holding your children, _Enchanter_ Malcolm.” It was the only time he heard Leandra use Malcolm’s title. “When they are grown and we are gone, they’ll know you as an example of a free mage who was everything the Chantry said he couldn’t be. It’s a small difference, but it’s deep.”

Hawke decided at age seven on a hillside watching the sunrise: he would improve lives. His father’s actions would matter because his actions mattered.

Hawke pushes out of his chair, paces to the fire. Look what he’d done so far. Failed his father, his brother. Made his fortune and lost his sister. Failed to prevent Kirkwall’s Qunari battle. Killed a foreign leader, someone he respected even when they disagreed. Hundreds of other deaths along the way. He tries to make the streets safer at night, but violent gangs are probably building power again as Hawke stares into the flames of his hearth fire.

Maybe people will survive a little longer while they re-establish.

_Maybe._ Hawke rubs his forehead.

In the bedroom, he makes a difference. The focus it gives him to have Anders or Fenris under his paddle, his rope, his hands. To have them gagged and squirming with pleasure, to be doing something _right_ , something they _need_ … to almost push too far, but refrain. To know the begging eyes mean _keep going_ , not stop, never let go. To hold them all night. Hawke needs it, too.

He needs to get _something_ right.

Not for the first time, Hawke wonders what Fenris’ tawny-brown skin would have been like without those cruel tattoos. Fenris has claimed them for himself. He wears them as battle scars and has learned to use them as tools for his own pleasure or as weapons. But Hawke wonders. Who was he before his memory was destroyed by the pain of receiving those scars? Who was he before magisters taught him to hate?

Hawke sobs, leans against the mantle, closing his eyes tight, pain clenching his chest. How could anyone do that? How could Danarius look at Fenris’ spirit, his smile, his gorgeous eyes, and crush the life out of him?

Hawke had momentarily understood the appeal. The power Fenris offered him last night was intoxicating. With that power, Hawke could have wrecked Fenris, twisted his thoughts until he _begged_ to teach Anders how to drain his tattoos for power. Hawke could have left him a bloody mess. He could have left scars, physical or emotional. He could have hollowed Fenris out into a doll of himself. His eyes would’ve gone vacant forever.

But could he? Last night’s thought was no more than an impulse. The idea that he could hurt Fenris irreparably is hubris. Fenris has survived more soul crushing than Hawke can inflict _accidentally_ and emerged with enough love to sustain Hawke for the rest of his days. Fenris is not fragile.

What Hawke can damage forever is their relationship and his own soul. If he ever took Fenris up on an offer of ‘no limits’ and never checked what Fenris wanted, he would have to drown his conscience in alcohol or other excess, because he would rather kill himself than make Fenris a hollowed-out puppet. But Fenris would leave, wouldn’t he? Then take years to recover. How many? Another seven? More, after such a breach of trust? Would he trust again? Would he love again?

Hawke takes a shuddering breath. _No. Not an option._

A sound escapes Hawke that might have been a laugh, if it weren’t choked in his tears. The offer of _taming_ Fenris was tempting because it affirmed his power… that he’d wanted in the first place to use for good.

Hawke takes another breath. The girl, in the caves. He’d saved her, killed her rapist. Feynriel, the Dreamer mage. Maker knows what he’ll become, but for now he’s free. The miner at the Bone Pit. The mages now kept at the Gallows. They’re not happy, but they’re _alive_ , and that’s better than they’d have gotten if Hawke hadn’t…

Images spring to mind of people who died because they misunderstood Hawke’s intentions, because they refused to listen when Hawke tried to parlay, because they were _afraid_.

Hawke takes another shuddering breath, remembers faces in the market. They survive because Hawke continues to fight. People trying to live simple lives. Hawke and Aveline and Anders are all working to make that happen. No blood mages, no templars, no thugs in the alleys. Just people.

Hawke remembers the looks of pleasure and frustration and bliss on the faces of Anders and Fenris last night. _He_ did that. He calmed them, gave them peace and space to reconcile. Hawke looks at his hand, clenches it. No matter what else he’s done, _they_ are good in his life. He can’t solve everything for them. They cannot be _fixed_. But he can give them peace, he can give them pleasure. He might eventually give them each other.

The idea of actually ‘taming’ Fenris makes him sick. Fenris as a ‘wild little wolf’ is idiotic at best. It appealed to him, briefly, when he was horny, but Maker help him that’s how years ago Anders agreed to visible marks he didn’t want, or how last night Fenris could offer ‘no limits.’ It helps him remember why he must be careful to respect their limits for the night, no matter what they say protected by their safewords.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are not imagining things. Fenris didn’t say ‘no limits’ under the protection of a safeword. The take-home message for Hawke is actually that they need to be clothed when they’re negotiating. Then maybe he won’t think really stupid things that inspire him to brood for weeks. Fenris has his own conclusions about the situation, which will be revealed in a future work.   
> Also, Anders called Fenris a “wild dog” in canon, but that was a worst-case scenario. He hated Fenris thoroughly at that point. “Idiotic at best” (above) still fits.


	2. Broody, who is Hawke's

“Hey,” Hawke says when Fenris visits the next night. Hawke closes his book as Fenris heads for the shelf to grab his. “Can we talk?” Hawke winces at how that sounds, but Fenris smiles.

“Always,” he says and sits in his chair, setting the book on the table.

“I hit a limit the other night, and I need to tell you.” Hawke fidgets, then sets his book on the table, too. “When you said, ‘pleasing you makes it good’…” Hawke trails off.

Fenris tilts his head, confused. “You didn’t like that?”

“I… That’s not the point. I had other reactions I didn’t like. Please don’t say it again.” Hawke grins. “I much prefer you bratty.”

Fenris nods but says, “What reactions?”

Hawke’s bravado collapses. “Maker, Fenris are you going to make me tell you? Can I leave it with I didn’t like it?”

Fenris laughs. “Now I’m even more curious. I… no, I won’t ask. But I hope you’ll tell me when you’re comfortable sharing.”

Hawke smiles crookedly. “You’re a little shit sometimes, you know?”

“Then allow me to be clear,” Fenris says, leaning elbows on knees. “I’m glad you won’t allow something that bothers you into the bedroom. I’m glad you have boundaries, and I can respect this boundary without knowing why you have it.” He sits back, hesitates.

“I’m also glad you pushed to learn my real limits the other night,” Fenris continues. “I wasn’t thinking things through: I was angry. Everything you do _is_ good for me, partly because it pleases you, but also because you always act within my limits. I was wrong about how much I could take, and you helped me recognize it. As you said, I would have been upset in the morning or even run screaming for Sundermount.” Fenris shakes his hair out of his eyes, smiling. “I could blame myself, but… it might not matter. If I could give _too much_ and you could take it, I’m not sure I could stay…” Fenris chokes on the words. He stands, but hesitates a step from Hawke. Hawke takes his hand. “I don’t want to lose you,” Fenris says. “Ever.”

“You might, Fenris,” Hawke says gently, kissing his hand. “We live dangerous lives. Some stupid arrow or fireball or…”

Fenris clambers into his lap. “I don’t want to think about that,” he says, holding Hawke tight.

“I know,” he says softly, “but if it happens I want you to be ready. What would you do?”

“Take you to Nevarra. They have necromancers.”

Hawke flinches. “It wouldn’t be me,” he says, imagining his rambling corpse following Fenris around and taking pointers from Justice. Fenris leans back and Hawke sees Fenris’ smile. Of _course_ he’s joking. “Have I mentioned you can be a little shit?”

“Sometimes,” Fenris says, chuckling. They kiss lazily, smiling, and Fenris returns to his seat. They read, sharing their favorite lines from the books until the sun goes down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s it! They go home at this point.

**Author's Note:**

> I did promise in an earlier Treat that Hawke is fucked up, too. He can’t quite make it all the way to healthy this time. I think he did okay! *Chantry explodes in background.* (Just kidding that’s a bad Iron Man reference.)  
> Hey! Also! Every Dom and Domme is different, each will have unique reasons for enjoying what they do for their subs. Those reasons will also change over time. Okay? Okay.  
> Wait, now I not only have plot, but this work doesn’t have any smut?!? I’ll have to post Fenders smut next to make up for it. ~~Oh, darn.~~


End file.
